


AKA Get On Your Knees

by kaizoku



Category: Jessica Jones (TV)
Genre: AU - D/s-verse, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Cunnilingus, F/F, Femdom, Femslash, Recovery, References to Kilgrave, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-16 04:13:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7251634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaizoku/pseuds/kaizoku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trish loves submissiveness, the way it looks different on each of the men and women she’s dommed. Jessica is one of the ones who you’d think would fight you every step of the way -- but once she goes down, she goes down hard. She gets quiet, focused, and calm in a way that Trish has rarely seen her, except when she’s really drunk or in the middle of a case.</p>
            </blockquote>





	AKA Get On Your Knees

**Author's Note:**

  * For [charleybradburies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/charleybradburies/gifts).



“There’s no proof that she was acting under the direction of a dom," Hogarth said calmly.

Jessica slapped her hand down on the desk, hard enough that a flock of pens clattered onto the floor. Hogarth ignored them.

“Jessica,” she said warningly.

“You and I both know that it wasn’t a normal relationship."

“Of course not, but there’s precedent--"

“She wasn’t submitting! He was controlling her. How many times do I have to tell you this?" 

Hogarth turned away in her chair, almost like she didn’t want to look at Jessica’s face while she said her piece.

“It doesn’t matter how many times you say it. It doesn’t change the fact that the jury is just going to see an uncollared sub."

“He didn’t have to collar her. You’ve been there with a sub--"

“Don’t you dare bring my personal life into this. Look. He may have been an especially charismatic dom--“

“Shut up, Hogarth. This is bullshit. You know what he did."

“I’m not going down this road with you again," Hogarth said. Jessica flinched.

“Oh, fuck you."

There was no secretary, no Pam, hanging around nervously outside the office, no one except Hogarth to hear the door when she slammed it.

Jessica was halfway down the hall when Hogarth called after her, “Get some help, Jessica."

*

Help. It sounded so easy.

It was true, an uncollared sub could go down to the local discipline club, get an hour of being beaten black and blue. At least if you weren’t a super-fast healing mutant or whatever. Or you could drown out the dull pounding _need_ with half a bottle of whiskey, if you hadn’t promised not to do that anymore.

You could call Luke, if you didn’t already know that he wasn’t answering your calls.

Or you could go over to your best friend's apartment, kneel down in the room that used to be yours - the training room - and wait. Breathing in the plastic smell of the mats, underlaid with sweat and disinfectant.

The sound of the door opening, the beep of the security system. Keys being set down. “Jess? Is that you?" 

“I’m in here."

“You okay?" Trish rounded the corner, still in her red coat. “Are you-- oh."

“I need you. If it's not okay, I can leave. But, please, Trish."

Trish blows out her breath. "No, it's okay. It's good. Just, tell me what you need, okay?"

*

Trish's fingers are tingling.

They have done this before, sort of. Only once and it was years ago, back before everything went to hell, before Jessica fell off the radar for six months. And Trish thought she was fine with it being a one time thing back then, she did. After Kilgrave and Simpson, it wasn’t exactly on her to-do list. She was more concerned with Jessica being okay, with finding a way to get back to her normal life. But now with Jessica bent over the arm of the couch, her jeans pulled down just enough to see her underwear - practical, white, nothing fancy - and the red marks Trish is leaving on her skin, it’s all fresh again. She’s turned-on and nervous and scared that she’ll fuck up somehow and weirdly, startlingly happy.

“Does it hurt?"

Jessica makes an odd sound. “Not much, but… it’s like I can breathe again."

Trish loves submissiveness, the way it looks different on each of the men and women she’s dommed. Jessica is one of the ones who you’d think would fight you every step of the way -- but once she goes down, she goes down hard. She gets quiet, focused, and calm in a way that Trish has rarely seen her, except when she’s really drunk or in the middle of a case. It feels like Trish is stripping her bare, peeling off the layers of tension and prickliness that Jessica wraps around herself, her own special superhero cape.

The first time it happened they were _both_ drunk on rotgut whiskey, which was definitely the reason why Trish decided it was a good idea to hit on her totally straight sub best friend - and then when it turned out Jessica might not be entirely straight, or at least desperate enough not to care - that was when Trish realized that she was completely screwed.

Because it was good, really really good, in a rough, pushing each other up against the walls way, hearing Jessica groan when she yanked her hair, a blur of tongue and teeth and Jessica literally ripping her clothes off and Trish getting her hand between them and -- 

And waking up the next morning tangled up together in her bed, with her fingers sticky and her head pounding, dizzy and sick to her stomach. And because she apparently hadn’t made enough bad decisions, she promptly stumbled into the bathroom, where she proceeded to wash her hands, drink a glass of water, have a sexual identity crisis, and then pretend that nothing had happened for the next two years.

Of course, now they’re here and neither of them is drinking and Jessica is warm and wriggling under Trish’s hand. So maybe it wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened.

Trish gives her a quick slap. “Hey, behave."

“Come on," Jessica growls. “I’m getting old here."

“Shush." She walks around the couch, takes a handful of dark hair and yanks Jessica’s head up, kisses her ruthlessly.

“Thought you didn’t kiss subs,” Jessica says. 

“Mmm," Trish purrs. “You’re an exception."

Jessica hums against her mouth, bites at her lip teasingly, and Trish slides her hand down to Jessica’s throat, just resting her hand there. Her heartbeat is strong and a little bit fast, their lips moving rough and wet together. 

“Do you need a safeword?" She asks. What she means is, do you want to do something where you might need it. “Or did you just want a spanking?” 

“I want you to fuck me," Jessica says. “Do we need a safeword for that?"

“We can do green, yellow, red," Trish says. “Keep it simple."

Jessica laughs this time. “I’m not sure you can call any of this simple."

“I’m not going to say this won’t change things,” Trish says. “But I don't care. I love you.”

She loves her so goddamn much. She almost can't believe it's real, that she really gets to do this.

Jessica doesn’t answer, just pulls Trish back down and kisses the hell out of her. 

*

“Get on your knees," Trish says. She’s imagined saying the words before, more times than she would admit. Thought about it the first time that Jessica scoffed at her clothes, her music, her world. For a long time she thought it made her a monster that she wanted to slap her only friend. She never wanted to be like her mom.

Jessica goes down in one fluid motion, slams her knees into the tile of the kitchen floor, and Trish winces even though she knows it doesn’t hurt her at all. The lack of hesitance and the way that Jessica looks up at her, the _trust_ , makes her stomach do flips. She wants to praise her, wants to say “good girl" - but she knows that’s one of the things Jessica can’t handle. That it’s one of those things that Kilgrave tainted. Of course, it’s idiosyncratic. Commands are fine, Jessica told her, because she can choose not to obey them.

There’s a moment where it makes her feel angry, on Jessica’s behalf, but then she remembers she doesn’t want to waste another second thinking about that asshole, and anyway, she thinks, _we won._

“I want your mouth," she says instead.

There’s so much she can’t do for Jessica that it makes her heart ache. She couldn’t save her, and she can’t take the memories away, can only try to make things better by giving Jessica what she needs. Trusting Jessica to know what she wants and trusting herself not to take it too far. 

Trish pulls off her skirt and panties and kicks them aside. It’s a heady feeling to stand half-naked in her kitchen with the curtains open -- even though no one’s going to see inside. Even better is how eager Jessica is to get her mouth on her, and how she still knows just what Trish likes, how hard to suck and how fast to flick her tongue against her clit until Trish is grabbing her head, hips jabbing forward, and Jessica just takes it, holding her up as her knees go weak, and keeps her mouth right there, pressed against her, until Trish pushes her away.

It’s shocking how wet Jessica is when Trish unbuttons her jeans and pushes her hand into her underwear. 

“Did you--?"

“Yeah, I was touching myself," Jessica says, flashing her a cheeky grin.

“Fuck, that’s hot." Trish says, pushing in two fingers, kissing her some more. “You’re amazing."

“I know," Jess says smugly.

“Can you come again?" Trish asks, as Jessica’s breath stutters.

“Yeah, I think so."

“Green?” Trish asks.

“Green," Jessica confirms. “So fucking green."

"I like what you've done with the place," Jessica says, when they're lying together on the floor afterward. "With my room."

"You can still move back in," Trish says. It's probably too soon, but she wants Jess to know. "You're always welcome."

"But you won't make me. I appreciate that," Jessica says wryly. "And I love you too."


End file.
